This is the first in a series of posts about my 2007 trip to Australia. Note: All prices are in Australian dollar. This travel log is rated PG-13 for occasional strong language, crude humor and fierce creatures.
For years, Sarah and I have talked about going to Australia. The barriers of money and time, though, can be tough to overcome. We finally decided that, when she passed the bar, we’d finally go for it. And go for it, we did.
Read this, and you’ll get some idea of what it’s like Down Under. It might even be a good map for your own antipodean journey. Yes, I’ll start you off with the ride down there. Boring? Maybe … but you might get a few tips for how to stay sane while aloft for 15 hours. The really cool stuff happens outside Sidney, so stand by!
Wednesday, Aug. 15, 2007
For us, every great adventure starts with getting our collective tuchus out of Phoenix. We grabbed a 6 o’clock fight to LA. Of course, there was a 45-minute delay getting into the air. It seems the flight path was too crowded with other planes to LA. Go figure.
No matter. The flight to Sydney wasn’t scheduled to leave until 11:15. Plenty of time to get from one gate to the other. Of course, it was typical Southwest cattle-call, round ‘em up, move ‘em out fun that reminds me of just how much I dislike domestic air travel.
During the taxi, we passed a Qantas 747 at a gate. It was all lit up with floodlights. I wondered if that was the one that would drop us in Sydney.
LA’s international terminal isn’t much to write home about. It’s undergoing a needed renovation, though. Still, pretty much all of LAX smells like I’ve been jammed into a the tailpipe of a city bus, the lingering eux de diesel permeating every nook and cranny.
On the plus side, at virtually any hour, LAX is a vibrant airport. Unlike the dull Phoenix Sky Harbor International, which doesn’t even really deserve the word “International”, LAX constantly launches people to exotic locations. Sky Harbor? Ha! Shuffle aboard your flight to St. Louis on the dull Ford Taurus of the sky that is a 737 or A320. Here, people are boarding brightly colored heavies headed for Qatar, Singapore, Istanbul. If you go to LAX and can’t get past the inconveniences to the wonder that’s taking place, you’re simply losing touch with what’s really happening around you. Sweat the small stuff less, and realize how awesome it is that we can actually travel to these places.
Speaking of which, Qantas makes the process less horrible. The crew was really on the ball…they loaded the 747 in about as much time as Southwest needed for a 737. Soon, we’re packed in there with 420 of our new best friends. We had a good exit row seat. Unfortunately, the window seat is occupied by a John Lovitz clone, right down to the nagging Eastern voice. Ugh.
On the other hand, the Australian flight crew is a blast. The flight attendants are constantly mock-bickering, and they keep everybody comfortable. They practice the fine Australian art of “hangin’ shit.” That means teasing, as in “Aw, I’m just hangin’ shit on yer, mate!” My plan was to fall asleep quickly, but I couldn’t. And soon, the meal cart was rolling along. And it was even tasty! What a concept. You can also count on snacks, water bottles, hot chocolate, tea and a hot towel. Keep in mind this is coach, too. But even back there, you’ll get treated like a human being. A cool aside: Qantas originally stood for “Queensland And Northern Territory Air Service.”
It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a 747. It’s so big that all 6′2 of me can stand and stretch without bumping my head.
An even better aside: By the end of our trip, I’ll have flown five legs on Australian aircraft. Three of them will have at least one woman on the flight deck. That’s two more than I’ve had in my travels in the United States.
Thursday, Aug. 16
International dateline … we lost this day completely. It’s my first trip past the dateline, and soon after we hit another first: We’re south of the equator! Where this day would normally be, I watched Borat (unedited!) and 300. This on-demand entertainment system, it is very nice!
I got some sleep, and then woke up to a nice hot breakfast somewhere around 5 a.m. Sydney-time. Another two and a half hours, right?
Not! With us just 30 minutes away, Sydney was still socked in with fog. We veered back north to Brisbane. I mean, we’ve been in the air about 16 hours, and we are low on the gas. Unfortunately, every other international flight had to plop in Brizzy (as the locals call it), too. That’s a long wait for gas.
Unfortunately for some passengers, they missed connecting flights. The worst ones were those that were supposed to connect to Brisbane. For some dopey reason, they can’t just pop the doors and let them off. D’oh! Let this be a lesson in your travel planning: If you’re flying into Sydney, spend a few days there instead of trying to catch a quick flight to another city.
Finally, we hit Sydney. Customs there is hard-core serious about declaring food items, but they seem to let most packaged stuff through. It takes awhile to get through the many queues.
And here’s my gripe about baggage claims the world over: Do you really need to rub yourself up against the baggage carousel? Stand back a few feet so people can spot their stuff and pick it up. And really, if you need a cart to haul your luggage, you’ve overpacked. If you can’t carry all your stuff, don’t bring so much. Finally, if you have a genuine need for the cart, don’t park it against the carousel, ‘mkay?
Okay, so we broke into fresh air for the first time since Wednesday…and that barely counted since it was LA!
We caught a quick train to the Circular Quay section of Sydney. We checked into a Travelodge. By the way, Australian Travelodges are far more upscale than the American edition. Ours was square in the middle of the good stuff…walking distance from the Quay, the opera house and Cockle Bay (which is a great eating/drinking/shopping spot). There’s also a Chinatown nearby, plus most of the financial district. It’s about $130 a night.
This time of year, there’s a chill in Sydney’s air. It goes away, though, when the sun pokes out of the clouds. We spent a long time walking around just soaking up our surroundings. People dress kind of like it’s Washington D.C. Lots of suits, lots of black. Of course, it’s still the work week. Yet didgeridoo music still buzzes in the air, especially near the Opera House and the shore.
Sarah looks at the Opera House.
Now, where are we gonna have our first meal Down Under? The Australian Heritage Hotel advertised gourmet pizzas, and this is the most liberal interpretation of a pizza you’ll ever see. But I was quite pleased…should I get the emu, saltwater croc or kangaroo pizza (each is about $10)? Croc is it! The texture is similar to chicken, but with a hint of fishiness. Sarah chose a Middle Eastern lamb pizza. Also tasty, but it’s no croc.
The travel schedule caught up to us a bit, so we napped for a few hours. By the time we woke up, the sun was down. We headed to the James Squire pub at Cockle Bay and sampled a porter and nice selection called Governor King. Good stuff! We also got our first exposure to rugby and Australian Rules Football. The rest of the night was mostly strolling around trying not to get creamed by cars as we acclimated to walking on the left!
You, too, can tour the Bay Bridge ... looked like fun, but I was too hungry and jet-lagged!
About those funny sports: Okay, you’ll see all sorts of sports in Australia that are played with an oblong ball. One is rugby union, which is played by national teams such as the Wallabies and their nemesis, the All Blacks from New Zealand. This is the brand you’re most likely to recognize, what with all the big dudes and the scrums. Then there’s rugby league, which is played by club teams representing their cities. Then, you have the State of Origin rugby series, which is a series of matches in which players leave their clubs for a bit and join either the Queensland or New South Wales team. So if you were born in QL and your club teammate is from NSW, you’ll wind up trying to take each other’s heads off in the State of Origin series. This one carries a lot or pride with it. Then, you have the really whacky game: Australian Rules Football, also known as Ozzy Rules, AFL (pronounced I-EF-ALE, of course) or just plain “footy.” This is a bizarre sport that I can’t even begin to describe. But it’s fun as all get-out to watch…YouTube is your friend. Consult Wikipedia for the rules!
It's a lighthouse, I think.
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